I haven't seen Jason since our fateful dinner, nor have I seen much of John. He's working two jobs — making pizza and waiting tables for Uncle Frank, and dressing up as an elf at a local department store. We're fortunate to see each other for thirty minutes a day and we are both okay with that. He obviously doesn't want me bringing up the fight at Sarah's, and I—hopefully not as obviously—don't want to be questioned on my level of feelings for Jason.
As for me, I've spent every hour I can at the library. I can write stories from anywhere, but the devotional writing goes better sitting at a large wooden table surrounded by other readers and writers. The ever-present essence of paper, ink, and binding glue encourages me. I'm not sure the other library patrons are happy about my constant presence—I avoid leaving until closing—as the room is always much colder with me around. But the librarian waves and smiles each day when I walk past her desk — librarians are the best.
John swings by to visit on his way to the North Pole. We much on pizza outside, and then he kisses me and hurries off. Today, I watch him walk away in wonder. New York is working out much better for him than I imagined possible. Throwing my trash in the closest bin, I head back inside not worried about someone swiping my stuff. The library regulars keep an eye out for each other when we need breaks. This city isn't so terrifying after all.
I'm thirty minutes or so into the twenty-fourth chapter of the devotional when a tall figure plops down in front of me. I jump but catch the scream before it exits my mouth.
"Jason!" I whisper.
He folds his hands on the table. "Can we talk?"
I glance to my left and right. My acquaintances shoot me looks—we have an understanding of silence. My gaze flickers back to him. I hold my finger to my lips.
Jason frowns but gets up and pushes his chair in. He walks around to my side of the table, bends down, and whispers in my ear. "Please give me a moment of your time... Martin's waiting outside for us."
I sigh but get up and follow him out front.
"Hey, Zia." Martin holds up a mittened hand to me. It's been a while since I've seen him.
"Long time no see."
Martin shrugs. "Been around."
I purse my lips.
He holds up a recycled-cardboard cup holder. "Brought you something to warm you up."
I take the Tales cup already knowing what's inside. "Thank you," I say though I don't believe for a second that bringing cocoa is Martin's idea.
"Got you muffins too." He hands me a brown bag and then glances over at Jason who makes an almost imperceptible nod.
"Well," Martin scratches his beard, "I'd better get going. Come visit me sometime, okay?"
"You just got here," I point out.
"Busy man." Martin backs away to a bike. I notice there's a basket on the front with a big, brown bag in it. "Talk to you later." He waves and kicks off, crossing the street.
I turn to Jason. "What was that all about?"
"I knew you'd want to see him. Do you want to sit and eat your muffin?" He points to the brown bag I'm clutching. "There are two banana nuts."
I merely give him a look.
"Fine, but don't get mad at me, okay? I still consider you my friend. And, therefore, I'm under certain obligations to bring to your attention things that I would want brought to my attention."
I tense. "Maybe we should sit."
"It would be advisable," he agrees and leads the way.
Once were seated, I pluck out a muffin knowing he brought the snack to curb my temper. "Go on," I say pulling off a chunk and popping it in my mouth.
He leans his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together. "I'd like to start with an apology," he glances over at me, "I should have never walked out on you the other night."
I mentally note that he's not apologizing for a word of what he said or was accused of, just walking out on me — granted that did hurt my feelings. "I suppose this gesture absolves you."
He nods. "You might want to eat some more before the next part."
I devour three more bites, then put the rest of the muffin in the bag and wash the crumbs down with cocoa.
He glances over at me, holding my gaze, and then extends his hand, palm up.
"I'm not sure holding hands is a good idea." Instinctively, I glance around for red hair.
"I thought he might be your reason..." Jason lowers his hand.
"You never answered him," I point out.
"Being a male," Jason continues, ignoring me, "I know a bit about male behavior.... I'm serious, Zia," he says when I pull a face. "There is something that is not as it seems. Something big," he adds before I can protest. "I know you don't want to hear this, but please, please listen anyway. I don't want you to get hurt."
"I know he's not telling me something," I snap because we're getting dangerously close to subjects I'd rather not think about.
"But you're not trying to find out what it is."
"I want to leave the past in the past. Start fresh. Is that so wrong?" There's a sense of pleading in my words.
"The past affects the present. If he doesn't want you to know something, it is because that something will affect the present in a way he doesn't like — losing you."
I gaze at my hands, fruitlessly fighting off thoughts of what John's hiding that would cause him to lose me. The worst case is that he was with another girl, but that wouldn't matter anymore because now he's with me. He chose me. I shake my head. Thinking this way is wrong. "He wouldn't deceive me. I trust him."
Jason's hands fist. "He's going to hurt you, Zia."
"How do you know that? How could you know that? I trust you!"
"I know you do. And I don't take that lightly, but John wants something from you that the truth may impede him from getting."
"You don't even know him!"
"I know his type."
I scoff. "How can you accuse him of wanting to deceive me with what you're doing to Sarah?"
Jason's eyes widen. "My intentions are pure—"
"You still haven't told her that you're not going to marry her unless she converts. She's a mess and you're too much of a coward to tell her the truth!" I stand because I'm about to burst out in angry sobs and I don't want to give him the satisfaction. A tiny voice, possibly God, reminds me that Jason would get so satisfaction in my pain – I ignore it.
He blocks my way. "Is that what you think of me? A coward?"
"That's how you've treated the woman you say you love. Maybe you're the one I shouldn't trust."
That did it, his eyes lick with fire. "If that is what you truly believe, I feel sorry for you."
I try to scoff again but choke on a sob that's lodged mid-way up my throat. I need to steal away soon. "Because you're so much better than me? Ha! I feel sorry for you because you think you know everything. That only you could possibly protect me from John."
He glares in response, his body as rigid as stone.
"Marry Sarah, or don't. But stay out of my life!"
He nods several times before, dropping his gaze from mine and walking away.
I'm fuming, but the tears course steadily down my cheeks. I swipe them away, and head back inside, tossing the rest of his offering into the trash can on the way. It's not until I reach my laptop and sit that I realize I miss Jason already.
I shove my earbuds in and turn on my writing playlist, not wanting to go home. Not wanting to stay. Part of me wishes I knew where Jason's parents' house was. The other part is glad I don't. Perhaps it's better that we don't try to be friends. Better for John.
John. He is hiding something, I know it. But whatever it is, it doesn't matter. I'm not throwing him away again. I'm not returning to that black hole that was my life for so many months. I'm not going to look back ten years from now and realize I shouldn't have let him go. It will be too late by then. He will be married and with children. And, I could never break up a family for what I want.
Somehow I make it until closing time. When I get to the apartment, it is empty. John is at the restaurant, and Megs is at the laundry mat. I put my bag in my room and then head to the kitchen for cold pizza, not even caring enough to pop it in the oven for a few minutes.
With each bite, staring out the large back windows, Jason's words claw at me. Okay, so the worst isn't just that John dated some other girl. Though the thought makes me want to punch something—not an approved Amish reaction. The worse would be that he did more than just date her. That she let him do more. That she didn't put him in his place like I do. Holding him off until the wedding night.
I guess, now that I have to think about it, thanks to Jason, I suppose that could be what he's hiding. In which case, I need to know. I can't go on the rest of our lives together with the ghost of a possible other woman hanging over my head. But what if he admits he did? Could I ever go back home knowing I might see her? Knowing what she did with him... what he did with her?
I shutter at the thought, and the lump forms at the base of my throat again. If he did sleep with a girl, that would perfectly explain why he doesn't want to go home. Despite our families. He wouldn't want me to know, or for them to know either. Especially as he would have already been baptized into the church when he did it.
I put my head in my hands. I suppose if he did do it, I can still forgive him. We can move past it. Maybe she will move away someday. But do I want to know? Do I want to confront him just to forgive him anyway? Or should I let him have this one secret. One day, he'll tell me. Far from now. Once we've be married several years and it really no longer matters. Then I can tell him I knew—suspected. The years of guilt will have been his punishment, and we'll be able to move on.
But I'm not entirely sure that is the right path either. I already know what Jason will say if I ask him—confront John right away—but I want a second opinion. This is my life on the line—the part of it that matters.